


Tethered and Torn

by syusuke



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Self-Sacrifice, Senju Tobirama Needs a Hug, auhtor hugs Tobirama in her mind, author is being cautious with the rating, mood heavily inspired by a song, no hugs in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29608074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syusuke/pseuds/syusuke
Summary: This was different. Tobirama knew a hopeless situation when he saw one. No matter the strategy there was no way to escape, let alone defeat, the Kinkaku force. Not in their current state, not without casualties.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Tethered and Torn

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the wonderful PeacefulDiscord!  
> It was intended for Tobirama week but alas, a character study of my favourite Founder and my take on his final battle.
> 
> The mood of this fic was heavily inspired by the song "Chains" by Avi Kaplan, so for anyone who'd like some background music:  
> Specifically the alt version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=groxkRCpMQU

Tobirama felt the strain as he directed his chakra outwards. It was second nature to infuse the available water and move it through air or earth, always looking for the next droplet, until he got close enough to feel hostile chakra signatures. Strong, tense like electrical currents winding tightly together, but different on a fundamental level. A sensation unlike anything else, impossible to describe to a non-sensor type, though not for lack of trying.

“Halt.”

He was glad his voice was steady and didn’t give away his exhaustion. He was truly getting old. Old for a shinobi at least. His joints locked occasionally, robbing him of his most treasured weapon: speed. His left hand had lost the strong grip it once possessed and his chakra reserves were much shallower. It was no longer Hashirama who overshadowed him, but Tobirama’s own younger self. The village still depended as heavily on him, his ideas and inventions, as it had from the first day. 

But this was different. He knew a hopeless situation when he saw one. No matter the strategy there was no way to escape, let alone defeat, the Kinkaku force. Not in their current state, not without casualties.

Four, five, six.

Six young shinobi dropped down beside him. They still had a lot to learn. They had their whole lives before them. Young flames to carry their own will of fire. Not a relic of the past like him. The future was theirs to build. If they were to take a stand now, some of them would die, maybe all six.

But there was another way. Not all of them were needed. Not all of them would be missed. There was one final decision to make.

“We need a distraction.”

A moment of silence, downcast eyes and racing thoughts. Expectations hanging in the air, doubt, fear. Koharu couldn’t meet his eyes. Danzo was eyeing Hiruzen, who took a steadying breath. Kagami, Torifu and Homura were using the opportunity to catch their breaths, but Kagami’s sharingan was spinning fast and he was checking the environment. Tobirama waited. He waited for someone to react.

“I’ll do it.”

Tobirama smiled to himself. Of course it was Saru. Someone who showed courage and made a decision when others wouldn’t. Someone who would give their life to protect friends and comrades. A general who wouldn’t hide behind his soldiers, but join them on the battlefield. Tobirama could entrust the village to a man like that. He felt a sense of calm when he gave his student his last orders.

“No, I will be the distraction. You will lead them and the whole village as the third Hokage, Saru.”

The final burden, the decision the council had left to him alone. They had fought him first, claiming his candidates were too young. But when he refused to pick other candidates, the council begrudgingly approved both. He’d put it off to this very moment, unsure who could bear the responsibility better: Saru or Kagami. In a time of peace, Kagami would have won over Saru every time, but in times of war a rash decision was still better than none and Tobirama was tired of thinking ten steps ahead. Appointing an Uchiha would send a powerful message. It had the potential of tying the clan closer into village politics. But he feared what it could mean for Kagami himself. Tobirama knew the burden of leadership and while he himself never wanted it, at least he had been prepared for it. As the second heir, he had to learn too. Even if he had fought against it at first, there had been no one else to take over after Anija’s death and to be honest, none of his students were ready yet. 

There was a major difference between them though. Saru wanted this and he would have the support of his clan. Sasuke Sarutobi was an influential member of the council and would surely help his son in whatever way he could. But becoming Hokage could isolate Kagami from the Uchiha who were uncertain about the village and force him to side with the ones in favor of Konoha, driving a wedge into his clan. Tobirama would not do this to Kagami, not if he wasn’t prepared to stand his ground. There was enough conflict in a shinobi’s life. He would not be the cause of even more.

Tobirama groaned as his chakra returned bringing a clearer image of the situation. They were running out of time, the Kinkaku Force nearly on them, and his students were still frozen in place.

“Go!”

There was nothing left to say. They had to run, to live!

He watched the young shinobi leave, the light reflecting off a familiar tanto catching his eye. So that’s where it went. His eyes followed the intricate carvings along the sheath. He remembered the day Touka had asked him to carve it. A personal touch to her weapon of honor, one he had gladly created for his favourite cousine. It was not meant for battle though and Tobirama felt a twinge of regret. Touka had always said that Kagami was her favourite student and chances were she had never told him that it was a symbol of honor. Maybe she wanted to and never got the chance. She certainly didn’t expect to die in an ambush. The tanto’s intended use was limited to seppuku, in a final desperate effort to restore one's honor. He was glad that Touka had chosen a successor for her convictions, even if the weapon was misused right now. Touka wouldn’t mind though, so neither would he.

Tobirama took a deep breath. Finally his mind was, if not quiet, then at least calm. He would join his brothers in the Pure Lands tonight. 

The hokage robes, like every belonging of Hashirama he inherited, had never quite fit him. Even his first set of armor had been Anija’s. Tobirama still remembered how often his clansmen looked at him with disappointment, when he arrived wearing it. They had expected Anija leading them, not him. For the longest time, they did not trust him to read a battlefield, even though he was better at it than Hashirama. He was not bitter about that, he understood wanting the stronger brother to lead the surprise attacks. He understood they wanted the best possible chance to succeed. But Hashirama had no patience to wait for the best moment to strike, neither did he have Tobirama’s keen chakra sense to watch their backs. To his clansmen that did not matter. He was neither clanhead nor firstborn and therefore he would be the second choice in anything he did, so he resigned to be Anija’s shadow. He could be the cunning to Anija’s raw strength, the reasoning to his enthusiasm.

His family had other plans for him though and Tobirama wondered if they knew how hard it had been on him. Father wanted a sword he could wield and point at their enemies, Kawa and Ita wanted a patient teacher and Anija wanted a compassionate diplomat. There weren’t enough hours in the day to achieve all of that and still he tried.

He laughed dryly. All of his life he’d followed his family’s lead. How ironic that Anija’s death forced him to lead an entire village. He was no leader. The robes could have been made of chains, all the same to him. They chained him to a desk filled to the brim with reports and intel, diplomatic issues even. They forced him to control his temper and at least make an effort to socialize when all he wanted was a quiet room filled with research notes and interesting little machinery from all over the continent. They didn’t allow him to retreat, even when the onslaught of agitated chakra signatures was almost overwhelming him at council meetings.

Tobirama longed for time to himself. He was not made to remain stagnant. His curiosity only got more insistent the more he had to suppress it. The daily routine became suffocating after the first month. 

He felt so much lighter now, so much more like himself.

He could finally stop worrying and stretching himself thin.

The weight of the armor was familiar, so different from the thin cloth of the robe that never offered any protection. He had always been a good soldier. He knew what to do in battle. It was much easier to navigate than a political minefield. 

For all his bluntness, people still found ways to twist his words. They accused him of hating the Uchiha and seeking their complete destruction when all he said was that they were powerful and needed to be watched, same as the Senju. 

Tobirama sent out his senses one more time, he had to assess his options. He needed a timeframe if nothing else. He could sense Saru leading his squad at a hurried pace, not so fast that they would exhaust themselves before they reached Konoha, but fast enough that at least Homura was likely to collapse as soon as they reached the gates. Tobirama suppressed the bitter laugh welling up in him. The council would certainly use this against him too. They’d use the fact that he appointed Saru. 

However it would turn out, the village could deal without him. The clan could deal without him. They didn’t need a tired old man who carried the weight of the past. They could rely on Mito. 

Tobirama allowed himself a small smile. He would miss her sharp tongue.

What was left for him to do, was stopping the Kinkaku force. Tobirama knew the enemies would catch up any second now. He adjusted the strap at his right shoulder, knowing the old injury would make it hurt moving this way, but it was less likely to dislocate. Pain he could tolerate, not an immovable limb.

This was as good a battlefield as any. The clouds were heavy with unfallen rain, the trees broad enough to allow full cover and the ground was covered in leaves and sticks. 

He formed signs quickly, four clones appearing and scattering immediately. No elaborate traps, there was no time for that. Just him, his wits, and a gamble. Tobirama pulled a kunai out. Twisted it once, twice. It felt too light, too small in his hand. He wanted his sword, but not yet. Not while he could keep them at a distance, not while he could run circles around them and lead them away from his students.

They should be within earshot by now.

“This ends now! You want my head? Then come and get it!”

A little taunting never hurt.

A surprised shout to his right, sticks cracking to his left. Then he saw them bursting through the treetops, rushing him. He jumped backwards, throwing the kunai towards them and forming signs he had known for as long as he could think. The water dragon hit the first five men mid-air, slamming them into the ground. Another quick succession of signs and the mud covered them. Trapped, no threat for now.

He didn’t waste a second to charge the group of shinobi approaching next. Tobirama had anticipated the trees uprooting and unlike his enemies he had braced for the sudden movement. The vivid blue of his armor was a stark contrast to the chaos of swirling leaves and cracking branches around him.

Tobirama tried to duck below the barrage of shuriken thrown blindly at him, but his hip locked and forced him to deflect them instead. He moved back with the force, softening the strain on his joints. 

At once, he was restrained. Wire moved against his armor with an unnerving screeching sound, cutting into his legs and drawing blood.

A mocking voice filled the small clearing and Tobirama saw a man gesturing for the shinobi to wait. 

“Ready to give up, old man? My employer said dead or alive. Me? I’d prefer you struggling.”

Kinkaku. Their leader. Tobirama assessed him quietly. He wasn’t hiding behind his men, but wasn’t stupid enough to come closer either. He wanted a fight? He could have one. Tobirama bared his teeth threateningly, letting some amusement color his voice.

“If it is all the same to you.”

With that he spit water needles at Kinkaku with deadly precision, targeting the arteries along his neck and pelvis. Immediately the wire was pulled taut, cutting deep into his thighs, but Tobirama only laughed. From the corner of his eyes, he saw flashes of red and light reflecting off steel.

Meanwhile Kinkaku dodged the needles, shouting in anger.

“Cut off his legs. Do it!”

Tobirama only raised an eyebrow in challenge. Behind Kinkaku’s back six shinobi had already taken their last breath. None of them had time to scream, not with their throats cut, leaving them choking on their own blood. The wire cut clean through Tobirama, but it wasn’t flesh. Just water and, within a split second, it exploded into dozens of water needles. 

It was a game of wits and Tobirama gave it everything he had. A feint here, a quick hiraishin there. Clones, substitutions. Well-chosen jutsu that changed the battlefield from mud, to thick mist, to fire burning away possible covers. Everything in his arsenal.

Twenty minutes, apparently that was his limit. His legs were done, shut down. No more running. His chakra was almost gone too, not enough to waste on equally exhausted clones.

Tobirama barely blocked a blow to the kidney, but the force still sent him flying. At this point it didn’t matter how many he’d already incapacitated- maybe a dozen? It only mattered how many were still standing and the answer was too many. He crashed into a tree trunk and it was almost enough to knock him out. Almost.

Darkness clouded his vision. 

His arms hung heavy by his side. His vision was blurred from exhaustion and blood dripping from a cut on his right brow. He could make out the silhouette of the woman standing before him throw something, but couldn’t move to dodge it. Shuriken hit his armor with a dull clack, one whizzing by his ear. Another went right through the fur collar, the sharp pain making Tobirama hiss as the metal dug into the thin skin of his neck. Blood shot out immediately, turning the white of his collar to crimson and soaking his shirt underneath. An artery.

He coughed blood, one hand instinctively putting pressure on the wound and beginning to glow green as he pulled out the weapon. The skin stitched together again and he drew in a shuddering breath, thankful that his training paid off.

The enemies jumped back at the sight, a group of five or six shinobi. A few steps were between them. Enough space, enough time to gather his chakra.

“Careful! He still has chakra!”

Tobirama coughed again. Life was leaving him regardless, drop by scarlet drop. Even though the cuts were rather small and insignificant on their own, he’d gotten most of them at the start of this fight and the steady blood loss would result in a real problem soon.The world was already moving in lazy whirls before his eyes and it was difficult to focus.

But they gave him an opportunity. He thought of Touka’s tanto and the hiraishin seal etched into its sheath. Kagami shouldn’t be too far away yet. He had to do it now.

Tobirama’s head lolled back against the bark. He couldn’t bring himself to run from his fate anymore. This was a good death, an honorable one. He already lived much longer than he expected. Long enough to meet Tsuna and little Nawaki. 

He didn’t want his infamous past overshadowing their future. He wanted them to thrive in Konoha. Hell, he wanted the Uchiha to settle and integrate properly. He needed this to work! He wanted the village to be stable. For Hashirama, for the children! And, for that, they would be better off without him. Safer with Mito.

Tobirama’s head snapped to his right at a sudden crack and he heard someone sneering at him. He didn’t even register the sting of the slap, too busy coughing up blood. Kinkaku was taunting him. Hands grabbed him by the hair and forced him to make eye contact. Tobirama barely managed to raise an eyebrow at him. Kinkaku was still talking, calling him weak and old.

“White Demon, my ass! Die like the dog you’ve always been!”

Red hot fury rose quickly, overtaking him, and Tobirama growled.

He would not die like this. He would show them exactly why the Uchiha feared him, why they still resented him. Wave upon wave of killing intent rolled off him. It startled Kinkaku enough that he took a step back and Tobirama grinned at him. A feral grin, all blood-stained teeth and unspoken threat. He pulled himself up along the tree. He swayed for a moment, darkness threatening him again, but then he found his footing. 

In the privacy of his own mind, he took grim satisfaction at their instinctive retreat. This was why hunters didn’t corner a wounded animal. This was why you didn’t wake a sleeping dragon. Tobirama had no reason to play docile anymore. Even after all these years, despite Anija trying to tell him otherwise, Tobirama was his father’s sword. And just this once, he would be wielded by anger instead of controlling the emotion. Father always told him that anger made people reckless, but reckless was exactly what he needed. !

Tobirama took his left arm guard off, pulled at the torn sleeve and made his decision. Right now, he had just enough chakra to make one short jump. He had a hiraishin marker outside the forest. He could probably catch up with his students, but that wouldn’t do. 

His right hand had a faint blue glow to it as he grabbed his left forearm, activating the storage seal.

With one smooth motion, his treasured katana appeared, looking as if he pulled it right out of his bones, a true extension of himself. The blade that saved his life so many times, the blade that ended Izuna. His hands instinctively settled on the grip and he took a steadying breath as he widened his stance, ready to charge. His focus zeroed in on Kinkaku.

Tobirama addressed Kinkaku in the same cut-off, crisp way he used with annoying Elders. 

“You can’t teach an ‘ _ old dog’ _ new tricks and I don’t know how to die.”

Tobirama saw silhouettes moving, vision still too blurred to make out details. He knew he couldn’t dodge all of them. Instead he braced for impact and resigned to take them down with him. 

He did not expect Kinkaku to shout.

“Stop! Fall back!”   
  


The silhouettes froze and then moved further away, following his orders. Tobirama watched as Kinkaku himself approached. Just two more steps and he’d be within range of Tobirama’s blade.

“You were ready to die the moment you stopped running. But not like this, huh? Not cowering like a beaten dog. Come on then, show me the demon!”

Tobirama blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. What was left of the Kinkaku Force, a mere four, were forming a half circle around them. At this point he wasn’t entirely sure how many he killed, but he hoped none chased after his students. Although, even if one or two slipped away, his students would handle them. He had drawn in the majority of the enemies. 

There was just enough space for close combat. Kinkaku’s Force still close enough to interfere if needed.. Close enough for Tobirama to attack them too. 

He had already won. He would choose his own death and theirs, too.

Tobirama reached deep within himself, pulling at his chakra, coaxing it into his free hand one more time. He felt the water in the clouds above them. Kinkaku threw his kunai the moment Tobirama started forming signs, but Tobirama managed to form the last sign just before his left hand was impaled and pinned to the tree trunk. 

_ Fools. _

A wall of water drenched his opponents. Kinkaku charged in, and Tobirama forced the last bit of chakra through his blade. His treasured weapon, covered in intricate seals, a catalyst for lightning chakra. He slammed it into the ground, sparks flying, jumping across the wet surface and covering the battlefield.

Lightning raced towards every piece of metal. The desperate shouts were music to his ears and he allowed himself a bark of laughter when he heard bodies hit the floor and the gulps for air, as his chakra fried their nerve ends and forced muscles to spasm.

Tobirama’s control wavered and he crumbled when the electricity rebounded, shooting into him through the hilt of his sword.

This time, when the darkness reached for him, Tobirama welcomed the abyss' embrace.

No more facades. No more duties.

And if the forever hopeful child in him - the one he had to bury much too soon - took control for a moment, if he dared to hope that the hatred of generations could die with him and that this would make a difference - there was no one here to challenge him on it.

He was finally free.

**Author's Note:**

> As with all my character studies, I'm always happy to discuss it in comments or hear what stood out to you :)


End file.
